As the Pawnees came down at full gallop, the Cheyennes lashed up their ponies to meet them. Then came the crack of pistols, and a perfect storm of arrows passed and crossed each other in mid-air. As the combatants met, we could see them poking lances at each other's ribs for an instant, and then each side retreated to its starting point. Charge first was ended. We gazed over the battle-field to count the dead, but to our surprise none appeared. [Illustration: BATTLE BETWEEN CHEYENNES AND PAWNEES.] A few minutes were spent by both parties in a general overhauling of their equipments, and then another charge was made. They rode across each other's fronts and around in circles, firing their arrows and yelling like demons, and occasionally, when two combatants accidentally got close together, prodding away with lances. The oddest part of the whole terrible tragedy to us was that the charges looked, when closely approaching each other, as if they were being made by two riderless bands of wild ponies. The Indians would lie along that side of their horses which was turned away from the enemy, and fire their pistols and shoot their arrows from under the animals' necks, thus leaving exposed in the saddle only that portion of the savage anatomy which was capable of receiving the largest number of arrows with results the least possibly dangerous. I noticed one fat old fellow whose pony carried him out of battle with two arrows sticking in the portion thus unprotected, like pins in a cushion. He still kept up his yelling, but it struck me that there was a touch of anguish in the tone, and I felt confident that he would not sit down and tell his children of the battle for some time to come. We saw one exhibition of horsemanship which especially excited our admiration. An arrow struck a Cheyenne on the forehead, glancing off, but stunning him so with its iron point, that, after swaying in the saddle for an instant, he fell to the earth. Another of the tribe, who was following at full speed, leaned toward the ground, and checking his pony but slightly, seized the prostrate warrior by the waistband, and, flinging him across his horse in front of the saddle, rode on out of the battle. For several hours--indeed until the sun was low in the heavens and the shadows crept into the valley--this terrible fray continued, the charging, shouting, and firing being kept up until both combatants had worked down the river so far that we could no longer see them.